


Safe Harbor

by Hopetohell



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Chains, Collars, D/s themes, Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: August Walker’s domination is total and unyielding, but it is never cruel.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Safe Harbor

He looks down at the curve of your ass, at the collar and cuffs, at the press of your forearms flat against the boards. And he doesn’t pull the chain at your throat; he never pulls, because here trust reigns supreme and though he may be harsh (unkind, unyielding) he is never cruel; he knows this dance and the weight it carries. 

_Pet. Your submission is a gift._ And it is, it is; all he asks from you is everything. All he demands is perfect, complete obedience here in this room, and in return he will give you what you crave, what you didn’t even know you needed until he wrapped a hand around your wrist that night, soft and gentle and nearly romantic til he’d whispered the words into your ear. 

( _Well, don’t you look delicious. But I bet you’d look even better with my boot on your face_ and it was a risk, on his part as much as yours; maybe he’d leave you in pieces in the woods, and maybe you’d jerk your hand away with a blush and a stammered excuse. But, come on. It’s August; he’s had you pegged from the moment he saw you. He saw that bright and burning spark of incipient shame and said _you know, it’s not a weakness. It’s the opposite. To cede control is to show your strength. Let me make you stronger, pet. Let me make you ferocious and unstoppable_ )

_Crawl to me. Show me your humility._ Humility, yes, but not humiliation; in all this newness and strangeness he’d talked and talked and talked with you, learning limits, learning all the ways in which you’d break for him and all the ways you wouldn’t. All those nights coming back from the depths, when he’d pressed a mug of something warm into your hands. _Cocoa, pet. It’ll do you good. Now, let’s talk about the spider gag. Tell me, how did it compare to the bit?_

August’s tools are many and varied and occasionally unnerving; there are bloodstains worked deep into the floorboards and when you ask about them all he answers is _memories of another time. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it._

_Crawl,_ he says again, gathering the chain as you go to him on elbows and knees, til your ass is in range and he can stroke a warm broad hand over the curve of it, til he can dip the tips of his fingers into you where you wait, warm and wet and quivering with anticipation. _One more time. Tell me how you’ll stop this if you need to._

He slaps you squarely across the cunt and it is a sharp sting followed by a hot and throbbing ache; blood rushes in and if he does it right it’ll swell your folds just a bit; it’ll leave you aching and burning hot, so sensitive, ready to receive his cock. _Pain is an art, pet. Accept it graciously and it will bring you unbelievable pleasure._ There’s a pause, as he considers your response. Another strike. And another, this one lingering, warm and tingling against you as he fingers you open and he’s right, isn’t he, right about the heady pain and pleasure all tangled up. 

And here he has you among the rings sunk into the floor; here he can clip your heavy chain to the ground so that its weight tugs the collar down against the back of your neck, the leather wide and soothing like his hand, because you need the contact, the feel of something pressing at your skin to remind you _this is your place, this is where you’re safe,_ because he wants both his hands free to pin you on his cock. He pries you open, thumbs pressing electric against sensitive flesh, and _gorgeous, pet, if only you could see this. You’re so wet for me._ And he kneels to lick you then, in a long flat stripe all along your slit, working the point of his tongue around his thumbs, gathering the taste of you; he moans in satisfaction at the taste, the heat, the way you can’t help but mewl for him. _You’re ready._

It’s not a question but still he waits, positioned with the tip of his cock just barely parting your folds, waiting for that moment when your head drops down and your hips tilt back, waiting for when that last little bit of _everything else_ drops away and leaves only what’s his. _And you are mine, aren’t you._ He thrusts in to the root, unforgiving, hand on your hip and the other on you, rubbing circles. _Hold position, pet. Be still. Take everything._

And you do.   
_  
Everything_ is August parting tender flesh and moving in you, bruising and inexorable; _everything_ is him tipping you over the edge and cursing at the feel of you clenching on his cock. _Everything_ is the feel of him stilling and pulsing deep inside, draping himself across your back with one arm bracing and one arm wrapped around your ribs. And _everything_ is the way he draws back only to lick you clean of all his spend, gentle and careful on your sensitive flesh, mapping your response in the ripple of muscle under his tongue. 

And _everything_ is the way he releases you from your bonds and lifts you to the sofa; _everything_ is the mug he presses into your hands as he says _now, pet. Shall we talk about the chain?_


End file.
